


L'Un Vers L'Autre

by jondriette



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Theatre, College, M/M, Theatre
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 19:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jondriette/pseuds/jondriette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That’s it! You’re joining the theatre club!”<br/>“I don’t think... What? No!”<br/>“Do you want to stay in college or not?”<br/>“Of course I do, but...”<br/>I took another sip from my coffee. Well, it would get me the extra credit. And theatre couldn’t be that bad, now, could it?<br/>Somewhere on the way to sculpting class, I’ve made my choice to go on Friday. I guess I’ve just learned to trust Cosette’s decisions. And anyway, I didn’t have anything to lose, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	L'Un Vers L'Autre

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfiction, I really hope you guys like it.  
> Sorry the first chapter is sorta Hugo-esque with its descriptions.  
> Rated M for smut in later chapters. ;)

I had always thought college was going to be a really chill time.

It wasn’t until two years after I finished high school that I actually applied. I had been spending my time delivering pizzas for a bit of extra cash, and playing video games – you see, I’m an artist, but those two years weren’t good to me. I hadn’t picked up a paintbrush in the whole time, and after my high school band split up, my guitar was stuffed away behind my bed. It was depressing more than anything, and I’ll have to admit that I might have developed a bit of a drinking problem trying to distract myself from the failure I had become.

The turning point came when one summer afternoon, my childhood friend Cosette (who had just graduated) stood on my porch and announced that she wanted us to go to college together.

Of course the idea had crossed my mind several times – seeing your old classmates get accepted into some prestigious law or medical schools does some things to you. In the end, it just didn’t fit into the way I was imagining my life.

But I didn’t exactly have anything to lose, right?

So we spent the whole afternoon writing and sending out applications. She got replies and acceptance letters every other day.

My first and only one came after four weeks. We were going to Université Diderot in Paris.

Fall came, and it was time to leave for college. I was a bit overwhelmed when we got there, I’ll have to admit, the building alone just seemed so menacing. I found comfort in the anticipation of a cold beer later in the evening.

Unfortunately for me, the hall of residence was already full by the time I enrolled, so I was sharing a flat with some other lad just a block down the road from the university.

“Hi, Grantaire, right?” he’d said as he opened the door a bit too quickly, as if he had been waiting right beside it.

“Uh, yeah. Just R is fine. You’re Marius?”

It wasn’t too shabby, though. My room was the smaller of the two, but it had enough space for my guitar behind the door, and I could tuck my easel behind the closet. Marius was okay, too. He was a law student in his second year, and I’m pretty sure his parents were rich or something (I can’t figure out why he lived in a tiny apartment though, he could most probably afford better). While he was a bit harried and disoriented at times, conversations and video game nights were always fun.

Cosette was studying literature, and apparently that worked out pretty good for her, because whenever I asked her if she felt like going out for a drink, she responded that she had too much school work to do and anyway, if I were taking this seriously, I would have to get a grip and work for it. Then I’d usually get a grip. On a can of beer.

So these two were the only ones I really hung out with during my time in college, I mean, if you don’t count the party goers from the weekends (which was Monday through Sunday for me). Art students just bored me, probably the reason why I never wanted to become one. They’re all special snowflakes and oh-so-unique, when in reality they’re just obnoxious hipsters who think they can draw.

As for drawing... It seemed that I still hadn’t found my muse. I was doing the required work for my classes, sure, but it was all so lifeless. It lacked the certain something. When I was younger, my paintings were much more vibrant, I’d pour my all into each and every single one, because that was the only thing that made me happy – but they’ve lost that spark, and I think now that I had to focus on school work again it was only going to get worse. At least I’ve picked up my guitar again (after Marius nagged me multiple times to play something, he’s so excitable by little things), so at least that’s okay.

College was... not so okay.

Mandatory classes were the worst. When I enrolled for art, I wasn’t expecting that I was going to have to sit through lecture after lecture about the most pointless things. Anatomy, I could understand. History even, to an extent. But, heck, philosophy? I couldn’t care less in what way Rousseau’s essays about some social contract were reflected in the art of the 18th century, that’s definitely not what I signed up for.

Which amounted to the fact that after three weeks tops I stopped going to most of my classes altogether.

That probably led to where I am now.

“So, what you’re trying to say is, I’m failing college right now?”

The air in the office was stifling, and so were the colours. Everything of a disgusting brown. But then again, with the polished golden name plate on the antique wooden desk – ᴍ. Jᴀᴠᴇʀᴛ, ʜᴇᴀᴅᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀ – it all kind of fit together. The most ridiculous thing, though, was the massive painting on the wall behind the old grey man’s head, between two veiled windows which let only a dim spring light shine through. It was a landscape, with a sparkling white stream running through the middle and green hills softly sloping around trees and bushes, everything adorned by laughing flowers and fluffy cotton candy clouds. It was terribly quirky and just so out of place in this brown hole, as if someone had walked in and decided that this would brighten up the place, when all it did was accentuate the dreariness. It was sad, really. I wondered how he could stand sitting in this hell all day. But I guess he made decent money of it.

Javert cleared his throat. “What I’m saying is that your expected total credit won’t suffice to pass this term. Even if you got a perfect score on all final exams, it just wouldn’t add up. You could either stay here for the remainder of the year, or—”

“Or I just drop out straight away. Right.”

“—or you find other means of getting extra credit.”

Oh, hell, no. I’m not going to join some stupid—

“For example, you could join one of the extracurricular clubs, or ask your teachers if there’s any extra projects you could do.”

So much for that.

I wouldn’t even be that concerned about leaving, really, it’s just that I didn’t have any other place to go. I mean, sure, I could go back to living with my parents again, but returning to Montreuil wasn’t really on top of my bucket list, not to mention having to tell my parents I failed college in the first year. And I think I would miss this place. I spent the last seven months here, and I was expecting to stay here for another few years. And Marius, I think I’d miss living with him the most.

Looks like I have no choice, eh?

I ran a hand through my hair and shifted in my seat. “Yeah. Alright. I’ll try to find something.”

“Good.” Javert shuffled some of the papers on his desk. What exactly does a headmaster do all day, anyway?

“Just another question.”

He looked back up. “Yes?”

“I’ll have to go to mandatory classes again, yes?”

“Of course.” He narrowed his eyes. “And take the final exams. What else were you expecting?”

Yeah, I’m about done with college life right now.

 

* * *

 

“You’re going to _what_?”

I took another sip from my iced coffee. “Javert said I wouldn’t pass the year, so I’ll be leaving next week.”

We were having coffee, like every Wednesday in our free period – unfortunately the only one we shared. Usually we sit inside the cafeteria, but as it was starting to get a bit warmer and sunnier outside, we decided to go outside today. There was a slight breeze that ruffled the trees around the campus, with the sun shining in our faces it all felt very tranquil. Much in contrast to the conversation we were having.

Cosette looked at me as if I had just confessed to murder. “No. This is completely out of the question. You’re not. Going. To. Leave.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And who are you to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do?”

She slammed her fist down on the table, causing her coffee to spill on the wooden surface, but she didn’t seem to notice. “God damn it, R, you’re not going back to sitting at home and playing video games all day. We worked hard enough to get you into college and you sure as hell aren’t going to just throw it away like that. I really do hope for you that you haven’t filed the de-registration papers yet.”

“No, I haven’t.” I looked down at my drink. Sometimes I feel like this girl is my conscience. And she was right, of course, in some way. But what was I going to do?

She furrowed her brows and took a few breaths –to calm herself, she usually tries – before proceeding. “I told you so many times you got to work for this, and yet—“

“Yeah, listen, right, I’m sorry, okay? But I knew right from the beginning that college wasn’t my thing. You can’t force me to achieve what’s way out of my reach.” Oh. That came out a bit harsher than planned.

“Did you really think this was going to be easy? You can’t expect to just breeze through, this isn’t high school!”

“I enrolled for art! Of course I didn’t expect I had to take fucking history tests!”

She put her hand to her chin – she always did this when she was really angry.

“Okay, Cosette, I’m sorry. But what choice do I have if I’m going to fail anyway by the end of the year?” I ran a hand through my hair.

“There have to be alternatives!” She pursed her lips. “They don’t let people fail just like that without giving them a second chance.”

“Well... Not really.”

“What about extra credit?”

“Well... Javert said I could take extra courses, but...”

“Does it matter what kind?” Suddenly, her face lit up. Uh oh. I could practically see the bulb above her head slowly light up with each word.                                                                                                                                                                        

“I guess not, but...”

“That’s it! You’re joining the theatre club!”

“I don’t think... What? No!” What was she even... Theatre? What? I’m an artist, not a thespian. This is out of the question.

“Do you want to stay in college or not?”

“Of course I do, but... Cosette, I’m no actor!”

“Doesn’t matter, we’ll make one of you!” (Good luck with that.)

“I think this is the worst idea you’ve ever had. No way.”

“Really? Because I think this is my best idea since I’ve gotten you into college.” She finished her drink and stood up. “Rehearsals are Fridays at 6. And don’t you dare not show up.” With that, she left me sitting alone.

I took another sip from my coffee. Well, it would get me the extra credit. And theatre couldn’t be that bad, now, could it?

It was never something that sparked my interest, to be honest. Sure, I’ve read some Shakespeare here and there, but that’s about it. I never even went to see a play. I acknowledge it as a form of art, of course, just not the kind I was ever into. It was definitely going to be hard to try and strike up a passion for something that never crossed your mind.

Somewhere on the way to sculpting class, I’ve made my choice to go on Friday. I guess I’ve just learned to trust Cosette’s decisions. And anyway, I again didn’t have anything to lose, right?

 

* * *

 

The door clicked and pushed open. “What the fuck is this thing about you dropping out?“

Oh, that. I had sent him a text message right after leaving Javert’s office.

There was some clinking of keys and a few shuffled movements before Marius appeared in my door frame. I looked up from my sketchbook. “Oh. That. Nevermind, got it sorted out already.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Explain yourself.”

I sighed. “Javert told me I’m failing so hard right now that even if I got a perfect score on finals, I wouldn’t pass the year.”

“Oh.” He stared at me blankly for a few seconds. “That’s... a tough pill to swallow.”

“Yeah, you don’t say.”

“And?”

“I have to get enough extra credit by the end of the year, somehow.”

“You can’t even manage going to mandatory classes.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He laughed. “Really, though? So what are you doing?”

“Well, I’ll ask my professors if I can work on any extra projects. And otherwise...” I shrugged. “It wasn’t my idea. I’m going to join the theatre club.”

Marius is the least artistic or culturally appreciative person I’ve ever known, so it didn’t surprise me when he broke out into laughter again. “Theatre? _You?_ Are you being serious right now?”

 “Cosette got me to do it.”

I had to try not to laugh in turn as he went silent right away. Ever since I’ve introduced them to each other, he has been head over heels in love with her, while she was being completely oblivious to it. He nagged me every day to get her to go out with him, it was amusing, really. “Cosette? Is... Is she going to be there?”

“I should think so.”

“When are you going?”

“Well, Monsieur Pontmercy, theatre doesn’t seem that ridiculous anymore now, does it?” I gave him the most shit-eating grin. This was great.

“Shut the fuck up, Grantaire.” The look on his face was priceless. “I... I’m coming with you.”

Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow at him. “Oh, really? If you think this will get you into Cosette’s pants, you—“

“Shut the fuck up, R!”

Now I laughed. “Alright, alright. I’m going there Friday at 6. But I’ll only let you come with me if you buy me a drink.”

He groaned. “Good God. Yes, sure. Whatever it takes.”

You know, sometimes I do feel a little bit sorry for the love fool.

 

* * *

 

Marius glanced at his watch. 5:58 p.m. “Hurry up! We’re supposed to be there by now!”

I glared at him. “At least _I_ didn’t take half an hour in front of the mirror trying to decide what the fuck to wear.”

It was so ridiculous, he made it out to be something so much bigger than it was. Jesus Christ – I never want to fall in love as badly as him (oh, if only I had known better back then). What a tit.

“Was it really all that necessary that you got drunk?”

“Marius, I just had a beer. I’m so far from drunk, what kind of universe do you even live in?” Well, I can’t blame him; he usually starts to get tipsy after just a few drinks. One of my favourite things to do on video game nights was to slip some vodka into his coke, always just a little so he won’t notice. By the end of the night he would sit on my bed and sob to me about how much he needed to be with Cosette and how he deserved her not noticing him. It’s hilarious. I always feel a little bit sorry for him afterwards, but hey, I think it helps to increase his alcohol tolerance. At least that’s what I tell him.

“If you do anything to embarrass me in front of Cosette, I’m going to chop your fucking head off.”

“Whatever, Romeo. I didn’t ask you to come with me.”

“You’re an asshole.”

Poor little lad.

“Have you ever been down here?” He asked me as we rushed down the staircase into the building’s basement. Apparently they had built a little stage in one of the store rooms where they met for rehearsals, Cosette told me. Sounded nice and cosy, at least.

“Yeah, we keep our art supplies here. Paints and raw materials and stuff.” I pushed the door to the familiar hallway open. It was one of the more abandoned parts of the university, since people usually don’t come down here for more than a few minutes. Thus the bare plaster walls were dimly lit and it always smelt of dust. But somehow I liked it here. It’s probably the quiet, the cool air.

The door to the room we were headed was usually closed when I came here between classes, but today Cosette was standing in the doorway, smiling to us as we approached. I could feel Marius flush red behind me, so in a sudden burst of kindness I decided to do him a favour this time. “Hey Cosette, I brought Marius along, I really hope you don’t mind – would you have guessed he’s a real theatre fanatic? Yeah, me neither. I thought it would be less awkward if I didn’t come alone.” I grinned, looked from her (her expression turning a bit confused, but not disparaging) to him (a thankful spark in his eyes and a shy smile spreading across his still red face) and turned to enter the room.

It didn’t look much different from the other store rooms, there were no windows and it was all kind of stuffy. But the thespians had made quite a sight out of it, with movie posters and stage props on the walls, the shelves stocked with more props and costumes, and the middle of the room filled with rows of chairs, about twelve. Some of them were occupied by students whose heads were turned towards us. Half of the space was taken up by a makeshift stage of wooden boxes covered with cloth. My gaze, surveying the room, got caught on what presented itself before me on that stage.

Because up there, on the boxes in this dim store room, stood Apollo – the God – himself.


End file.
